


Possessive | Negan

by Lynn_Tory



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Original Character Death(s), Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-03
Packaged: 2018-09-06 08:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8742247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lynn_Tory/pseuds/Lynn_Tory
Summary: "I won't," you mumbled as you walk down the hall, in the corner of your eye, the whole reason you came to this floor; the metal door, you knew who it belonged to. You raised your fist, and made the choice of pounding it against the door. You heard the gruff grunt, and shuffling and you looked down the hall for any means of escape. Alas, the man everyone in The Sanctuary feared, the God of very person in there, Negan.





	

As you walked down the barren road, only the dead on the streets visible. Your boots clicked against the ground, your (h/c) hair tied into a ponytail, high on your head. Your eyes darted one way, and then the other. You were weary of the world around you, listening closely to the wind howling and smacking you in your face. 

 

It was too quiet, that was for sure. Your mind filled with it’s own reasonings for this setting. Of course, the explanation you crawled for was that someone had already been here, but you didn’t turn around, from past experiences, you knew, you could more than likely take them. And if you couldn’t, who is to say you would be too upset if you were to pass. 

 

Every day, you walked out, risking to be torn from limb to limb, to die a terrible death, watching as these horrid beasts tore into your flesh, like they hadn’t eaten anything since being in their own mother’s womb, their yellow and spotted teeth painted with your blood. Your muscles trying to cling to your shaky bones. You had seen it before, seen it happen to ones you adored.

 

Any weapons you saw, you took. Either in your backpack or on your body. Pocket knives in each boot. A gun inside your jacket and on your belt. Hell, a pocket switchblade was in your bra. Though, carrying in your hand was a large and long piece of wood with knives on each side, tied in over and over again. You’d think it would be pretty lousy, but it was fucking great when you were in epidemics where a walker was coming from behind and front, which happened more times than you would have predicted.

 

With that by your side, along with the other weapons hidden on your body for good use, you weren’t as big as a pussy as you were in the beginning of the apocalypse. Going hand in hand, with being damn close to psychotic, you found it fun to challenge yourself to kill walkers in different ways. To say you were a changed person via the apocalypse was an understatement. 

 

You snapped out of your own thoughts when you heard the sound of an engine and your heart stopped. Sometimes, you had more to fear by humans, than by the dead. You looked around as you dipped in an alley and ran, holding onto the wood double-sided spear. You clenched your teeth, your head snapped back as the truck passed the opening and you stopped, to take a sigh of relief but your eyes widened as it backed up. 

 

“Shit… Shit shit shit!” You yelled and ran even faster, hearing the door open, glancing back to see a tall man in a leather jacket, his hair smoothed back neatly, two men followed him, walking behind him evenly. In the man’s right hand was a baseball bat, the top wrapped in barbed wire. Holy hell, did you not want to be looking into the face of that, much less, hit by it. 

 

You ducked around the corner, heading into woods, trees passing you by, as you looked both ways, turning right, and hoping to have lost them, cursing yourself for getting caught up into a forest, searching for a way out, and finding it, leading into a neighborhood, the sound of leaves crackled under each fast-paced foot step.

 

You thought you had lost them, as you leaned on your knees for support, taking in breaths. Before you heard the sound of a gun cocking behind you. Your eyes widened and you turned to face them. The two smirked, and you looked at the blond. Half of his fucking face was melted and you looked over again. 

 

“Hands in the ear, girlie.” He said and you hesitated but gently set your spear down and lifted your hands in the air, looking down at the ground. Seeing him talk into the walkie talkie he had in his hand. You quirked a brow before looking down the street, seeing the large truck hurl down the street, stopping in front of the three of you. You flinched as the door flew open and out stepped the same tall man, walking towards you, whistling a soft tune.

 

He stopped in front of you, in between the two men, who had their guns pointed at you, their fingers on the trigger, even. He smirked. 

 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” He said, his voice loud, and bold. His stare drove needles into your skin, as you bit back your tongue from answering. 

 

He let out a low chuckle and walked towards you, looking down at the spear on the ground, leaning down to pick it up, and examine it. “What a queer contraption.” By now, you realized how close he was standing as his hot breath hit your face, and you closed your eye, furrowing your brows. “Fucking cool, though.” He smirked as you opened your eyes again.

 

“Don’t worry, little red. The wolf won’t hurt you today.” He smirked and leaned down to be in equivalence with your height. You furrowed your brows and turned your head to look to the side. He chuckled and stood up, patting your head. 

 

“My name is Negan. Oh, and pardon me.” He held up his baseball bat. “This is Lucille. And goddamned, she is always fuckin’ thirsty. She is amazing. You do not want her bashed into your skin!” He said with great confidence. 

 

“I’ve got a little compound not too far away. You have two options, doll,” he paused. “You can either come back with me, and live to my rules, work your way up… or, we’ll take all your shit and you’ll be off on your own. Unless, that is, in case you have a group, than you can walk with that pretty little ass of yours and lead us to them.” He smirked. 

 

“I don’t have a group, Negan.” You let his name fall of your tongue into venom. His smirk didn’t falter, although. 

 

“I like the way my name rolls off your tongue, little red.” He whispered, his breath hot and you took a step back against his will as he furrowed his brows. 

 

“Don’t step away from me, when I’m talking so directly to you, but you didn’t know, so I’ll let that one fucking slide, doll.” He whispered, his whisper was enough to let shivers run down your spine. You felt yourself nod in agreement. He nodded as well. “Good, anyway. Back to our little deal. What do you say?” Your head tilted back as you considered, biting your lip.

 

“I’ll go with you.” You mumbled, seeing his face light up so brightly, you furrowed your brows and grumbled softly but he nodded. “Pick up your shit, and let’s go!” He said, waving ‘Lucille’ in the direction of the truck, just now noticing the men had taken their guns away from pointing it in the direction of you. You sighed and picked up your spear. 

 

He was fucking mental. He named his fucking bat that he killed the dead with, and presumably some people with. You tapped your fingers on the wood of the spear, getting in and sitting in a straight posture, the men around you, watching your every mood like a dog does with a steak his owner shoves in his mouth. 

 

You smiled at the men, trying to be polite, your legs crossed over one another, seeing as surprisingly, you hadn’t lost your manners too much. Negan got in and sat himself, despite all the empty seats in the back, carefully beside you. He smirked. “Don’t mind them, they’ve got eyesores looking at your pretty little fine self. To be fair, I do too.” he winked and set Lucille carefully beside himself as you rolled your eyes.

 

You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, thinking about the past. Your past.

 

_As you sat at the long table, a red short silk dress adorning your curves, your (h/c) hair down in beautiful heated curls. Your eyelashes fluttered with mascara coating each one evenly. Earrings dangled from each ear.Your crossed your legs, red heels on your feet as you looked up at your mother and father and sighed._

_You were born into a wealthy family. That paired with the fact that you were arranged to be married to another family’s son, who was also wealthy. He was tall with messy brown hair, brown eyes as well. Currently in college to become a businessman, and follow in his father’s footsteps. As you were turning 21 next week, you two would be engaged at that time, as well as he would graduate the following spring, and when he was hired at his job by his father and bought his own house, you two would marry in the winter._

_You had known him since you were ten, and were absolutely in love with him. The way he talked, with a vocabulary for the Gods. His british accent laced in gold, going hand to hand with his deep voice. He was smart and loving. You remembered the day you turned 18 years old, and instead of staying in your own party, you two escaped to the outdoors, under the stars. You two made love that night._

_You were more than happy to marry this man who sat before you. His eyes looked up at you, sparkling under the light of the chandelier. You picked up your drink and sipped it quietly. Ignoring your mother completely as you remained gazing into his chocolate eyes. He looked down and chuckled before looking back at you with a grin, gazing at you as if you were something to be appreciated. And by his gaze, alone, you felt as if you were._

 

You snapped out of it as Negan nudged you with a grin, and you blinked. “Huh?”

 

“Were you daydreaming about me, doll?” His voice dripped with a teasing tone. You furrowed your brows and shook your head. 

 

“You will soon,” he winked as he opened the door and you followed soon. You looked around with wide eyes, your free hand on your hip. 

 

“Welcome to The Sanctuary!”


End file.
